


Comic of Errors

by werewolfsaz



Series: Nerds In Love [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Nerd Jesus, Secret nerd Daryl, So Much Cuteness, Talking online, Teen Romance, multiple comic book and movie references, shared nerdiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfsaz/pseuds/werewolfsaz
Summary: 17-year-old Paul Rovia had no problem admitting he was a nerd. He revelled in it, lived it, breathed it and said a hearty fuck you to anyone that thought he was an easy target because of it. He loved his comics, the movies based on those comics and his games. He loved his vintage tee shirts and retro bags, loved his Zelda phone case and the myriad of movie and game theme music he had as his ringtones.





	Comic of Errors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GJNB](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=GJNB).



> Hi hi!   
> This was inspired by my deep, abiding love for comics and X-Men. And my love for Daryl and Jesus, of course.   
> I hope you enjoy and please feel free to leave a comment if you do :)  
> Enjoy!

17-year-old Paul Rovia had no problem admitting he was a nerd. He revelled in it, lived it, breathed it and said a hearty fuck you to anyone that thought he was an easy target because of it. He loved his comics, the movies based on those comics and his games. He loved his vintage tee shirts and retro bags, loved his Zelda phone case and the myriad of movie and game theme music he had as his ringtones.

Paul also loved his moms, Carol and Rosita. He loved how they insisted on family game night every week, even now he was nearly grown, how they always listened and respected his opinion, even when they didn't agree, loved how they playfully argued over the length of his hair (Momma Rosita always won, tossing her baby a wink as she combed the long, honey brown locks). He loved that, for his seventeenth birthday, his moms had scrimped and saved to buy him a top of the line, brand new laptop. This gift had been everything to him and it came with a new set of rules. No computer until homework was done. No staying up all night on it. No porn... Though that one had really been pointless and they all knew it. Momma Carol had found his stash of long-haired, blue-eyed guys a while back though it was never spoken of. He was a 17-year-old, shy, gay nerd, internet porn was all he had.

Tonight, however, his moms were on their weekly date night and that meant that he was home alone until at least 11 pm. Throwing his bag onto the bed, blowing off chemistry homework completely (fucking Mr Grimes and his stupid homework) Paul booted up his precious computer. He quickly changed into basketball shorts and a Zelda tee shirt, yanking the tie out of his hair and massaging his scalp.  
'Ooh, that's nice.'  
Sitting at his desk, the teen quickly logged on to his favourite comic book forum, ready to lay the smackdown on any fool that crossed him and his knowledge the nerd side. 

WingedArcher: y'all are morons  
Paul frowned as the name pinged up on his message tab. WingedArcher had joined the forum a few months back and had kept to himself for the most part. But he seemed to know his shit and had no problem setting anyone straight, pointedly if he thought they were wrong. This had led to some heated arguments that Paul had tried to defuse, trying to play the mediator and keep the forum chats amicable.  
CallmeJesus: hey Archer chill, no need to be starting in on people so early in the day  
Paul hit send and turned his attention to the new Deadpool trailer. He was so excited for that.  
Wingedarcher: bite me, Jesus. Assholes think they know more than me about Wolverine? Fuck no!

Paul chuckled when the private message popped up, shaking his head. As rough as WingedArcher could be, the long-haired teen had kind of a soft spot for him. They'd often get into lengthy discussions in private chats about their favourite characters, storylines, movies. Talking to Archer made the evenings fly, made Paul forget that he didn't really have any friends at school and one, painfully unrequited, crush on the class bad boy.   
CallmeJesus: how dare they?!   
WingedArcher: fucking A! No one tells me shit about my man, Logan.   
Paul felt a strange flutter in his chest, a tightening, almost like a spasm of jealousy. Which was ridiculous because he didn't even know this guy! He could be anyone on the other side of that screen. Besides, being jealous of a fictional character was just crazy. Paul shook his head, long strands of hair falling to frame his face. With a small smile, he typed back.  
CallmeJesus: no starting fights again or the mods will kick you out. Then who will I talk to? WingedArcher: well... Maybe you should gimme some other way to contact you then. You ain't always gonna be here to save the idiots.   
Paul blinked, mouth hanging open, as he stared at the message. Had... Did he just... What the hell? Sure, they'd talked a lot over the last few weeks, talked about everything, not just comics and movies. Paul felt like he knew Archer, knew him on a deeper level somehow which, again was so stupid! He wanted to smack himself in the face but... At the same time... CallmeJesus: I could give you my number I guess? 

His finger hovered over the send key, palms sweating. What if this was a setup? A joke by the asshole jocks that had somehow found the forum, found out who he was? What if Archer was really a 57-year-old perv that wanted to rape and kill him? What if... What if...   
A bang made Paul jump, heart rocketing to his throat. Twisting in his chair, he waited for the serial killer to burst in and turn him into another statistic, but it was just Abe, Momma Rosita's big ginger cat that saw every door as an opportunity to rest his battering ram potential. The cat stalked over to Paul, jumped in his lap (with every claw extended, the fucker) and landed his ass right on the send key.   
"No! Fuck!" Paul cried, startled by the almost instantaneous ping of a message.  
WingedArcher: that would be awesome! That way, when I get an awesome idea about that crossover, I can text instead of waiting till we're both online.   
Paul rubbed his clammy palms on his shorts, resolutely ignoring the cat giving him the stink eye because he wasn't producing food right this second. With slightly shaking fingers he typed in his number and the message;   
CallmeJesus: awesome plan. Text whenever, I always have my cell on me. GTG and do my chemistry homework. Talk soon K? 

Feeling strange, kind of squirmy and excited and nauseous, he waited for Archer to reply. Instead, his phone pinged, a small cry of 'Yoshi!' identifying it as a text. Snatching up the cell, Paul frowned at the unknown number but smiled when he read the message. Unknown: chemistry sucks balls. Tell teacher the cat ate it or some shit.   
Eyeing Abe speculatively, wondering if dropping tuna on the pages would help, he text back. Jesus: Might be worth a try. Grimes sure knows how to lay it on before a weekend   
Adding WArcher as the number's contact name, Paul logged off the forum, reluctantly pulling his homework towards him. If he did some now and some tomorrow, he could maybe marathon Marvel movies on Sunday without his moms going insane.   
WArcher: teachers, man, they hate us all.   
Paul laughed, sending back another text, homework forgotten on the bed. Abe, seeing the boy was not going to feed him, curled up on the papers with a self-satisfied air, the pages crinkling as he flexed his claws. 

The weekend passed too fast, as they always do, and by Sunday evening, Paul was just the tiniest bit the smitten kitten with WArcher. They'd text for hours, late into Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, talking about everything, anything. Paul informed him gleefully that he'd assigned his new texting buddy the old school X-Men theme for a ringtone, which Archer seemed to love. When Paul told him, full of genuine dismay, that Abe had turned his chemistry homework into paper ribbons, Archer had laughed and laughed, a constant flow of the crying, laughing emoji filling his phone screen. Even Paul's moms had laughed when he explained what had happened, Momma Rosita picking up the big ginger cat and scolding him between chuckles. They promised to call Mr Grimes first thing Monday and explain.  
Jesus: This is serious, asshole! I’m gonna get in trouble.  
WArcher: Chill, man, Grimes won’t do nothing. You’re the smartest kid in class, you sure as shit could come up with a better excuse for not handing the homework in than your cat shredded it  
Paul smiled, the panic easing a bit, as he re-read the message. Something nagged at the back of his head though, about how Archer seemed to know things Paul didn’t remember telling him. But, right now, in the middle of his homework disaster, he didn’t have time to think about it properly.

Now, late on Monday morning, sat in his English class, bored and nervous for chemistry, Paul let his blue eyes scan the class. There was Lori, holding court with her group of popular girls, sneering at the less popular and batting her eyes disgustingly at the jocks. Those meat heads were laughing and shoving each other, wrestling to see who was stronger. Paul hid a smile at the knowledge that, thanks to his moms enrolling him in karate at age 4, he could easily beat them all.   
Then there were the middle kids, not popular enough to hang with Lori or the jocks but not hated enough to be tormented by them either. Then Paul's people, the geeks, the nerds, the brainiacs, constantly harassed and tortured by the populars. And right on the outer edge, friends with no one and a bit intimidating was Daryl Dixon. 

Paul wanted to get to know Daryl Dixon, wanted to talk to and spend time with him, with the class bad boy, his unrequited crush. Daryl was a curiosity, a quiet, self-contained tiger in a room of gangly kittens. His eyes, flashing bale fire blue through his mop of dark, overlong hair, scanned the room constantly, thin lips curling into a sneer as he watched the antics of the others. Paul could relate to that sentiment.   
Huffing out a sigh, forcing his eyes away from Daryl and his too interesting face, the long-haired teen decided to text Archer quickly. Mrs Rhees hadn't come in yet so he had some time.   
Jesus: This class is killing me! And chemistry next! Grimes is gonna chew me out. 

He hit send, grinning at the screen. He wondered what gems of sarcasm Archer had for him today. There was the faintest ping, a half-heard, oddly familiar tune coming from somewhere nearby. Paul frowned slight but choose to ignore it, waiting for Archer to reply. The familiar X-Men tune tinkled through the class, louder than Paul was expecting.   
"Shit fuck," he hissed turning it down before reading the message.   
WArcher: I feel ya man. My class is acting like a bunch of baboons and bitches. It's embarrassing.   
A faint prickling sensation made the long-haired teen look up and around. Someone was staring at him, laser-focused on him alone. It made him shiver. Looking around he thought he saw Daryl turn away, saw the other sliding his phone back into his jeans, straightening his leather jacket embroidered with wings flashing brightly for a mo.... Paul's heart stopped. 

Everything suddenly froze, time stretching as every conversation between Paul and WingedArcher replayed in his head. It never clicked, never even entered his brain. Archer had known the names of his teachers, had seemed to know who Paul meant when he spoke of the brainless and cruel popular crowd. Now, seeing the angel wings stitched onto the back of Daryl’s jacket, knowing the other excelled at archery whenever they had it during phys ed, it made sense. Huge, nonsensical sense! Rage and shame and painful heart-breaking humiliation roared through Paul's lean body. Had it all been a trick? Some stupid initiation to be accepted by the populars?  
He went to get up, to march over and ask why Daryl had pulled this horrible, cruel joke. Did he think toying with Paul, making him think they could be friends, or maybe more if he hadn't misread the gentle flirting in some messages, was a good laugh? Paul was going to punch him square in his horrible, gorgeous face. 

"Alright, settle down!" Mrs Rhees voice cut through the class noise. "Sit down, get your books out. Paul? Sit down."   
Paul didn't. He couldn't. He was too hurt, too angry. He heard Shane, lead meat head, make some kind of comment but ignored him.   
"Something you'd like to say, Mr Rovia?" Mrs Rhees asked sharply, her eyes sharp but curious.   
"Yes," Paul snarled, glaring at Daryl as he stood up straight. "Wolverine is an overrated, 2-dimensional, waste of comic book creativity."   
The class fell silent, confused. They glanced at each other, speechless, turning blank gazes back to Paul. Then a chair scraped loudly across the floor, slamming back onto the ground. "The fuck you just say?" Daryl snarled in his deep voice, glaring at the slightly smaller teen.   
"You fucking heard me,” Paul spat back, blue eyes flashing angrily. “He's nowhere near as interesting as, say, Cyclops?"   
Paul was deliberately baiting the other teen now, using the things he’d learned from talking to Archer to confirm his suspicions.   
"Don't you fucking dare talk to me about Cyclops!" Daryl roared, slamming his hands down on the desk. "That fucking useless moron..."   
"That is enough!" Mrs Rhees shouted, silencing them both. "Detention, both of you, right now. I will not have that behaviour in my class!" 

The pair grabbed their bags and marched from the room to the sniggers of the rest of the class. Halfway down the empty hallway, still fuming and trembling with anger, Paul felt himself yanked to the side, spun into one of the supply closets and closed in with Daryl.   
"The fuck you going off on Wolverine for?" the other teen growled. "What is your problem, Jesus? Thought you knew how I felt about Cyclops..."   
"You!" Paul burst out, azure eyes going glassy with hard fought back tears. "That is my problem, you! You made me like you, made me think you liked me back! But it was just a joke to you, just like everyone else, ha ha, make the nerd think someone likes him for once, that he might have a chanc... Mmmpfh!" 

Thin, capped, insistent lips slammed into Paul's, silencing him. It took him a long moment to realise Daryl kissing him, actually kissing him, with his mouth and everything! Then he remembered how angry he was and shoved the taller teen away.   
"What the fuck?!" he almost screamed, cheeks burning, lips tingling.  
"Always liked you," Daryl was saying, words rushing out of him as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get another chance to speak to Paul. "Always liked your smart mouth and don't fuck with me attitude. Liked seeing you read your comics, seeing you like something I do too. I didn't know it was you when we started talking online, not at first. But I recognised the tone when you stepped in to calm shit down. Wanted to talk to you, face to face but... I ain't good at that, get too flustered, feel too stupid. So, talking online, by text... Meant everything. Wanted to tell you, wanted to let you know it was me. But... I ain't special. I'm rough and harsh and mean. I don't like people, only you. I ain't good enough for you so... I kept quiet, kept it to myself and pretended, just for a while, that I was good enough." 

Paul blinked, astonished and speechless. Daryl didn't think he was good enough for Paul? What the hell? All his anger, stupid, misunderstood and baseless, melted away. With gentle hands he lifted Daryl’s face, brushing his hair back a bit to see him properly.   
"Let's get to detention. Then, if you like, once my moms have finished yelling at me and making me clean the garage, we can hang out and binge watch all the X-Men movies. And I might kiss you every time Wolverine comes on screen."   
Daryl grinned, bright and wolfish.   
"That's a lot you know."   
"I'm counting on it."


End file.
